


Blackmail

by all_not_well



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: D/s, Dom!Harry, M/M, Stalking, Sub!Draco, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_not_well/pseuds/all_not_well
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry ups the ante.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackmail

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the H/D Kink Meme on Livejournal.

He was standing at the sink in a Ministry loo, his hands wet and sudsy beneath the taps, when there was a sudden silvery shimmer in the mirror and then a warm, solid weight pressed against Draco's back. An arm came up under Draco's ribs to pull him tight against the dark-haired man who appeared out of thin air behind him. One firm hand gripped Draco's wrist, while the other deftly slid Draco's wand free of its holster and sent it skittering across the filthy tiled floor. Green eyes met Draco's in the mirror, and glinted wickedly as Potter's pink tongue licked at the shell of Draco's ear.

"I should fuck you right here, Malfoy," Potter said, his hot breath tickling Draco's ear. "Right here where anyone could walk in and see you writhing on my cock like the filthy little slut you are."

Draco shivered once before steeling himself against the threat in that low, gravelly voice. Potter was bluffing, of course. He had to be bluffing.

Fortunately the fit of Draco's robes was loose enough to hide the way his cock hardened in his trousers at the sound of Potter's voice. This wasn't the first time Potter had tried to pull something like this, though he was getting more risqué with each successive attempt. But he couldn't possibly know just how turned on Draco was by the game. And he would never be permitted to find out.

"Honestly, Potter." Draco kept his movements steady and deliberate as he rinsed his hands clean and turned off the taps. "I should have you brought up on charges. Assault in a public lavatory? That's bold, even for an uncultured plebian like yourself."

He prided himself on the smooth timbre of his voice, and the steadiness of his hands. He was a Malfoy, after all. And a Malfoy did not show weakness in the face of the enemy.

Potter smiled, a dark and sensuous curl of his lip, and said nothing. His mouth fastened, leech-like, on the side of Draco's neck, sucking and nibbling in a way that was sure to leave a noticeable mark. Draco mitigated his shudder with an affected grimace of distaste.

He stood there, hands dripping over the sink, and glared at Potter's reflection. He knew Potter well enough by now; the brute would expect him to try to break free, but Draco had no intention of giving Potter the satisfaction of a physical confrontation. However, that left Draco with very few options. He'd have to brazen it out, and hope that Potter quickly grew bored with the game.

"Come now, Potter." Draco's scornful laugh echoed against the tiled walls. "Let's not be ridiculous, shall we? You and I both know that you're far too much a goody-goody to pull off this bad-boy persona."

But no sooner had Draco said the words when a memory he'd thought well-suppressed abruptly flickered to the surface of his consciousness. _Sectumsempra._

He sucked in an unsteady breath.

"Drop your trousers, Malfoy." The threat in Potter's voice had evolved into a command, backed up by the sudden sharp jab of a wand into Draco's ribs.

"This isn't at all amusing, you know." Draco's voice wavered as a tight knot of fear settled in his throat. Inexplicably his arousal only intensified, his cock straining against the confines of his trousers, dribbles of pre-come wetting his pants.

" _Don't_ make me say it again."

The green of Potter's eyes had darkened to nearly black. Draco stared at their reflections, watching as his own pale coloring faded further, to pasty white, as beads of sweat began to form on his upper lip. "Potter," he whispered. "Stop this."

"Very well," Potter said easily, though the wand only dug deeper into Draco's side. "I'll just stop in and have a chat with Kingsley, then. I'm sure the Minister would _love_ to know about that little Muggle club you've funded - and with laundered Galleons, no less. Really, Malfoy." Potter clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head. "Didn't you pay attention when Daddy taught you how to be a proper criminal?"

Draco's eyes widened. He ignored the jibe about his father for once, because, oh, _fuck_ , Potter knew. He knew about the money. He knew about the club. After all the pains Draco had taken, the trouble he'd gone through, to keep his dirty little secrets safe. Potter _knew_. And Draco didn't doubt for a second that Potter would follow up on his promise to tell all if Draco didn't comply with his commands.

Draco grasped hurriedly at the hem of his robes and hiked the fabric upwards.

Potter smiled. His teeth gleamed white in the harsh lights above the sink. "Good boy," he murmured, and stepped back to allow Draco room to shed the heavy woolen robes.

Draco hesitated only briefly, bracing himself with the memory of Azkaban, before reaching to unbutton his fly.

"That's my good boy," Potter practically purred as he crowded in close once more. His breath puffed hotly against Draco's neck. Potter rubbed slow circles with his free hand against Draco's belly, just above the waistband of Draco's trousers. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, tracked Draco's every move in the mirror.

Draco shoved his trousers and pants down his thighs in one swift motion, heedless of the way the cloth caught painfully against his weeping prick. He squeezed his own eyes shut, waiting for the mockery that was sure to follow.

There was a pregnant pause, and then--

"Tsk, Draco. I can't see you properly with your shirttails in the way."

Draco's eyes flew open. He bit back a curse and reached for the first button, but he was a fraction of a second too late. With a flick of Potter's wand, buttons flew in all directions, pinging against the tiles. Draco's shirt slithered off his shoulders and down his arms, dragging painfully at his wrists until a second spell sent the cufflinks flying as well.

"So much better," Potter said in a voice as slow and thick as treacle.

Heat suffused Draco's skin, the flush crawling up his chest, his neck, to pink his cheeks. He felt pinned, fragile as a butterfly, beneath Potter's lust-filled gaze.

"You can lie with your voice," Potter murmured, callused fingers pinching Draco's nipple just hard enough to draw a whimper from his throat. "You can hide behind your masks. But your body doesn't lie."

Potter cupped Draco's balls, rolling them in his palm as though testing the weight of them. Draco's cock jerked against his stomach, begging for its own fair share of Potter's attention.

"I know what you want," said Potter. His knee came up between Draco's thighs, forcing them apart. "You want to be owned, don't you. Especially by me."

"No," Draco whispered, shaking his head even as his cock gave another helpless twitch.

"Oh, yes." Potter drew his finger up the length of Draco's cock, catching a dribble of pre-come on the tip. He traced the fingertip over Draco's lips. Draco licked his lips in an unconscious reaction, and groaned as the salty, bitter flavor exploded on his tongue.

"You see?" said Potter. His grin was lightning-quick, almost boyish in his glee. "You know what you want as well as I do."

Draco whimpered as Potter abruptly pushed him forward. He fumbled to catch himself against the edge of the sink, the ceramic smooth and cold under his fingertips, wet and slippery and hard to grip. Then he yelped as a cold wet finger prodded unceremoniously at his arsehole.

"Please!" Draco choked out past the tightness in his throat.

"Please, what?" said Potter. His finger pushed inexorably forward, past the tight ring of muscle. "Please, go talk to the Minister? Or please fuck you, right here, right now?"

The mirror's reflection blurred as tears filled Draco's eyes. "Please," he whispered.

The finger in his arse burned, just a little too dry, just a little too much. He choked on a sob.

"What was that, pretty?" Potter worked the finger a little deeper, pushing and prodding until he found the spot that sent sparks shooting up Draco's spine. "I didn't hear your answer."

"Please." Draco gulped. There was only one answer he could give. "P-please fuck me."

Potter bit down, hard, on Draco's shoulder, then licked the bite mark. "Good boy," he whispered against Draco's skin.


End file.
